


The Prince's Pleasure

by spikesgirl58



Series: Hot Tropical Nights [2]
Category: Man from Uncle - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:26:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Uncoventional courtship challenge</p><p>42)  The Prince’s Pleasure</p><p>Illya Kuryakin is a man with a lot to lose, so he trusts nothing – least of all his unexpected desire for Napoleon Solo. There’s no time to get him off the remote Pacific Island, so Illya commands he be detained, in the lap of luxury, for his pleasure…</p><p>This is a sequel to Hot Tropical Nights</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince's Pleasure

“Can you actually do that?”  Louie Debois looked at Illya Kuryakin with an odd expression on his face.   The desk clerk wiped his brow with a colorful handkerchief and tucked it back into his pants pocket.  “Isn’t that almost like kidnapping?”

“What the hell would you do, Louie?”   Illya glanced back at the car where Napoleon Solo slept.  “If Dad finds out about him, there will be seven kinds of hell to pay.  I have to approach him and ease him into the idea that the prince of his kingdom, as it were, is about to marry a commoner. ”

“ _Il me semble que vous devriez avoir pensé à cela d'abord_ (it seems to me you should have thought of that first).”

“ _Oui, oui,”_ Illya snapped.  “I was impulsive, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s here and of his own free will.  I just need for him to stay here until I talk with Dad.”

“And he’s not exactly a commoner.  Illya, he’s a world famous author.  You can’t just tuck him away like he’s your play toy or something.  That’s not right and it’s not fair.”

“I know and that’s why I want him to think this is an all-expense paid vacation at the moment.  When he wakes up, I will explain.”

“But to put him in the _Mahana Fare_ …”  Louie scanned the registration cards.  Since their big remodel, reservations were slow to come in.  “What if someone asks about it?”

“Is it currently occupied?”

“No.”

“Has it been booked for the next week?”

“No.”

“The next month?”

“Unfortunately not, nor have half our rooms.”

“You know that I’m good for it, Louie”

“You practically own this resort, cousin.  I cannot stop you, but…”

“Excellent!”  Illya started to walk away, then turned back.  “Can someone meet me at the room?  He brought all kinds of shit and I don’t want to have to unload it all by myself again.  Once into the plane and then unloading it into the back of the car was enough.”

 _“Oui, bien sûr, mon prince.”_   Louie bowed low to Illya, but Illya was in too big a hurry to notice.

Illya trotted back to the car and slipped inside the driver’s door.  His passenger was still fast asleep, thanks to the Dramamine.  Illya had too much to lose to risk having this come apart at the seams.  He’d offered the pills to Napoleon when he began to get nauseous and the man had almost immediately fallen asleep, leaving Illya to pilot his plane with only his thoughts as company.

He’d started second guessing his actions on the flight home.  When the call had come, it had been as though the lights had come on in his heart again.  Illya had been commissioned by Napoleon’s agent to take care of the writer during his time in Tahiti.  Never in Illya’s wildest dreams would he have imagined the job would involve diamond smugglers, murderers, and a stand-off worthy of the Alamo. 

Even more of a surprise was how quickly he’d fallen completely in love with the man.  Illya had carefully built up a reputation of loving and leaving, mostly just leaving.  Suddenly find himself on the other end of the stick gave Illya an epiphany.  The shoe, as they say, was on the other foot and Illya discovered what it felt like to be the one abandoned.  

 Napoleon went back to New York, leaving Illya with a broken heart and a little ceramic grass hut as a keepsake. He’d regretted letting Napoleon go, but at that moment, there could be no compromise.  Napoleon didn’t know who he was, not really.  It wasn’t like Illya was in any position to tell him either, at least not then.  Illya had slept with that damn thing nearly every night since then.  He’s attached it to a ribbon and carried it with him.

He’d stopped running around like a tom cat in heat and stayed closer to his boat.  He worked as much as he could, trying to build up his bank account.  He wasn’t sure why, but he had a feeling he was might get tossed out on his ear for this.  While his parents had accepted Illya’s sexual preference, they’d never been crazy about it.  Illya had no idea how either of them would react.

Illya climbed back into the car, ignoring his shirt as it stuck to his sweat-slicked back.  Once he got Napoleon inside and safe, then Illya could think about niceties.  He drove slowly to avoid going off the narrow walkway.  It wasn’t exactly designed as a road.

The _Mahana Fare_ was set a bit away from the rest of the resort.  It was the only _fare_ with its own pool and sun deck.  It had three rooms to it, not counting a large bathroom.  There was a small kitchenette, a well appointed living room complete with its own TV and radio and a lavish bedroom.  None of the others fares were half as posh and well appointed.  Presidents and head of states stayed here, although Illya never had the pleasure himself.  Napoleon would be fine.

Or, at least that’s what Illya kept telling himself again and again.  Napoleon would have his typewriter, plenty of books to read, the ocean and all of Rangi to explore.  All Louie has to do was keep him here.

Illya just need some time to make everything work and he would make it work.  If Napoleon was willing to give up everything he knew to move to Tahiti with Illya, then Illya needed to work some magic of his own to make sure Napoleon knew how right his decision was.

Napoleon murmured and Illya smiled softly.  All he wanted to do was get Napoleon inside and love him awake.  He wanted to tell Napoleon of his commitment and love with every movement of his body.  Illya had never had anyone make him feel so weak and so strong at the same time.

Illya glanced into the rear view mirror and watched the hotel golf cart approach with two employees in it.  They would be most helpful getting all of Napoleon’s suitcases out of the trunk and backseat.  Illya have sworn the man took everything, but the kitchen sink, but he was there when the shipping company packed up Napoleon’s furniture for transport to Tahiti.

Hopefully, Napoleon would understand when Illya could at last explain everything to him.  He carried a bag of groceries into the room and began to load the small refrigerator with beer and vodka.  Then he smiled and pulled the little ceramic hut out of his pocket and looped it over the neck of the vodka.  He hoped Napoleon would see it and understand.

                                                                                ****

Napoleon woke with an odd taste in his mouth and the sensation that his head was packed with cotton.  He could hear the hum of an air conditioner, but the blast of air didn’t seem to cool him.  He was sticky and sweaty.

He sat up and winced at the  sweat that trickled down his temples.  He struggled out of his suit jacket and tossed it over on a brightly-upholstered chair.  Napoleon had gotten as far as unbuckling his pants when reality settled upon his shoulder and whispered in his ear.

He stood up and his pants dropped to the floor.  He wasn’t eating much these days, splitting his time between his typewriter and pining for his lost love.  Stepping out of them, he walked to a curtained window, pushed the tropical cloth carefully aside and caught his breath.  He was home.  He was in Tahiti.

“Illya?”  He half expected to turn and see the Russian standing there grinning and with his arms open wide.  Napoleon could practically feel Illya’s arms around him and hear to murmur of Illya’s voice, loving him.

There was no answer and Napoleon let the curtain drop to finish his disrobing.  Naked, he turned on a ceiling fan and stood beneath it, his head tilted back.  The breeze dried the sweat that had slicked his skin and Napoleon smiled in pleasure, despite the dryness of his mouth.

 _A drink of water will do the trick_ he thought and walked to the desk where the ice bucket and glasses sat.  That’s when he saw the note propped up against his typewriter.

He poured himself some water, then took it and the note back to the bed.  Setting the condensation covered tumbler down on the nightstand, Napoleon pulled on his glasses and carefully opened the note.

_Mon cher, Napoleon,_

_Forgive me for greeting you in such a cold and seemingly inhospitality manner, but there are things that I must attend to in Tahiti before we can be together.  It would be very boring for you there, so I have taken the liberty of putting you in the best room that Kia Ora has to offer until my return.  Everything is being taken care of.  All you have to do is relax and enjoy their hospitality and count the hours to my return._

_I will finish my business in Papeete as soon as I can and will come to you.  Until then, you have all of Rangiroa to explore and make your own.  There is a car that has been reserved for you, should you want to explore the other end of the motu.  The ferry runs daily and you can cross to investigate Avatoru.  I highly recommend the pizza at the Pizza Shack._

_I suppose at some point we will have to discuss living arrangements.  There are a couple of real estate agents in town if you are so inclined.  I will leave the island of choice to your pleasure as I love them all, nearly as much as I love you. Find a home that you want and there we will live._

_As soon as there is an opportunity, I will call you.  Until then, je t'aime de tout mon coeur et de l'âme.  Yes, you are going to have to learn French now.  I left a dictionary on top of one of your suitcases._

_Mon amour,_

_Illya_

Napoleon carefully refolded the note and thought about all that he’d just read.  He was thankful he was sitting down because the magnitude of what he’d just done suddenly occurred to him.

He didn’t even know what Illya did for a living, although he must do all right.  Money never seemed an issue or of interest to him.  It was one of the many reasons Napoleon had trusted Illya immediately.  The Russian didn’t sidling up to him for a free ride or put Napoleon on a pedestal to charm him out of cash.  He took Napoleon’s success at writing as an everyday occurrence.  Much as another man would put on a tool belt and go to a construction job, Illya readily accepted that Napoleon built things with words.   

Illya was a tour guide, but a tour guide who owned a plane and a boat.  Illya didn’t seem to lack for anything, rather he had a _laize faire_ attitude towards things.  Was tourism that profitable here?

What if Napoleon had been deposited here, tucked out of sight so that Illya could run off to have another adventure with a more handsome or skilled man?  What if the love Napoleon supposed between them was only an illusion and Illya saw him as nothing more than a fast screw when necessary? What if Illya had left without intending to return, playing some cruel joke on the gullible Napoleon as had other people he’d permitted into his life?

Napoleon waited for his mother’s voice to crop up in his head and start nagging him about poor choices and a lack of judgment, but she’d gone quiet months ago.  Once Napoleon had made up his mind that he was through thinking about life and actually started living it, he didn’t hear that raspy voice of hers, chiding him.   In a pathetic way, he sort of missed it as it was the last link he’d had to the woman who’d raised him.  In another way, he celebrated it.  He was emancipated and free at last.  But to what ends?

Napoleon went to one of his many suitcases, found the dictionary just as Illya had said, and rooted around until he found his swimming trunks.  Illya had picked them out and that made the trunks special.   

Pulling them on, Napoleon then took few minutes to check out his room… well, small house, really.  There small kitchenette set off to the side was fully stocked with cookware and the tiny refrigerator was filled with local delicacies, although Napoleon wasn’t sure if it was Illya or the hotel who supplied them.  Then he saw the bottle of expensive vodka tucked in the back behind the bottles of Hinano beer.  There was something dangling from it and Napoleon drew the bottle out and a goofy grin spread across his face.  Hanging from the neck of the bottle, tied with a worn ribbon, was his _tchotchke_.  Napoleon had left it with Illya and now Illya was leaving it for him.   Illya hadn’t abandoned him.  He was coming back.

Napoleon walked across the living room and opened the curtains to the sliding door and stopped.  Outside the door was a large patio with a long narrow pool in the center.  Illya put him in a room where Napoleon could use the pool and not worry about the baleful, disdainful stares of others.  Napoleon could practice his strokes and have privacy.  There was also a hot tub, a hammock, and a small covered table.  Napoleon could practically live here and want for nothing.  Well, having Illya here would be good.  Having Illya anywhere at the moment would be good.

His eyes narrowed as he remembered the night they spent in New York.  They’d kissed, hugged, cried, and laughed into the small hours of the morning.  Then punch drunk from exhaustion and passion, they’d made love until neither of them could stay awake a moment more.   Now he stepped out onto his private patio, Napoleon studied the skies and wondered just how long it would be before Illya would be dropping from them.  And he thought of what passion they would find when they were again together.

                                                                                ****

Illya parked his car in front of his parents’ house and took a deep breath.  He didn’t know why he was so anxious about this.  He’s stop making any excuses for his life choices a long time ago. 

Climbing from the car, Illya paused to wave to his younger sisters.  They were playing tennis on the front court and his youngest sister screamed mock fury as she missed the ball.  The older girl danced around in a little circle and cheered for herself.

Like Illya, they shared their mother’s blonde hair and blue eyes and their father’s build.   Emma and Yana left the court and trotted across the neatly trimmed grass to collect hugs from him.

“You’re back.  I thought you’ve finally left us for good.”  Yana was ten years his junior and was being groomed to follow their father into their family business as Illya was.

“You wish.”  Illya laughed and hugged her.   She kissed him and grimaced.  “Yuck!  When did you last shower and shave?”

“About two days ago.”

“Stay away from me,” Emma ordered.  “The last thing I need is sweaty, stinky boy cooties.”  Of course, that sent Illya racing after her, finally tackling her on the grass and rolling around, laughing as she screamed in mock horror.

A slender woman came to the door.  “Girls, girls, the neighbors will think you are being murdered… oh, your brother’s home.  That explains everything.”

Illya got up and Emma jumped up on his back, piggy back style.  He laughed and carried her to the porch.  “Madam, I believe this package is yours.” 

Emma slid off and disappeared into the house.

“That she is.” Klementina kissed her son and made a face similar to that of her daughter.  “What have you been rolling in?  Have you been off fishing again?”

“Yup, and I’ve caught me a keeper.  Where’s Dad?”

“First you go and clean up.  Use soap.”  It was an old joke between them’ although neither really remembered how or when it started.

Illya rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.  “Yes, Mother…”

He entered the house and headed upstairs.  His father had built one of the first two stories structures on this part of the island.  They lived far enough outside of Papeete to have privacy, yet they were close enough to still get into town when business demanded it.

His room was much as he left it.  Once a week a maid came in and cleaned, but otherwise it remained unchanged for the most part.  It was here if he wanted it and there were some nights he did.  When the cold winds blew, the boat was just too drafty.   When a tropical storm came through, Illya knew enough to head for higher grounds.

He showered, enjoying the sensation of cool water against his skin.  The showers at the pier were mediocre at best.  This was pure paradise, but he didn’t linger long.  He had more pressing business.

As he expected, his dirty, crumpled clothes were gone and a freshly laundered parau and underwear took their place.   He didn’t know how Kalani did it, but she always seemed to know when he was in the house.

He dressed, hurriedly pulling on his short and then wrapping the cloth around his waist and knotting it quickly.  Then, barefoot, he went looking for his mother.  She was sitting on the patio, the tall doors to the morning room open to welcome the trade breezes.  His sisters had swapped tennis clothes and rackets for paraus and tea.

His mother smiled and patted the cushion beside her, but Illya shook his head.  She took of her sunglasses to study him and he nodded.

“May I speak with you in private for a moment?”

“No, fair!” Emma spoke up.  “No secrets, remember.”

“This isn’t a secret,” Illya protested.  There was a long standing rule in the house that there be no secrets.  It had made Illya’s childhood an interesting one.  “But it is personal.”

“Yana, hush.”  Klementina stood.  “Of course, Illya.”

“Don’t give him any more money, Mama.”  Yana advised, with a wink.  “He’s a risky venture.”

He tried to smack her as he passed, but the girl laughed and ducked his hand.  He followed his mother into the study and waited for her to close the door and take a seat on the leather couch.  Only his parents would have leather furniture in Tahiti.

“What is so important that we need to do speak in private?”

“Where is Papa?”

“That’s your personal business?  He had some business in Hawai’i.  He should be back within the week.”

“No, not now.”  Illya massaged his temples.  “I need him to be here.”

“Illya, is there trouble?”  Klementina sat forward, obviously nervous and very protectively of her firstborn.  Ever since Illya had been attacked so many years ago, she lived in fear of a second attack.  He knew this and smiled, sitting to take her hand.  “Are **you** in trouble?”

“No, not bad.  It’s wonderful news, the best ever, but I was just hoping to tell you both together.”

“Can it wait?”

“It might, but I can’t.”  He stood and began to pace.  Then he stopped and dropped to his knees before her, taking her hands.  “Mama, I’ve found someone.  Not just someone, the one.  The one I want to be with forever.”

“Does this someone have a name and can I be expecting a grandchild soon?”

Illya made a face.  “Yes and no.

“I see.  I had hoped…”  Then she shook her head vigorously as if to fling a thought from it.  “No, does he make you happy, my little one?”

“Very happy, Mama, and he’s a good man.  He’s honest, hard working, and he loves me for me, not for what I am but for who I am.”

“Then he is welcomed in our family.”  She hugged her son and kissed him.  “And we can always hope that Emma will bring us a grandson to carry on the family name.”

“Emma?  Isn’t she a little young?  What about Yana?”

“She seems to be following in the footsteps of her brother.”  She kissed him again.  “I’m so happy for you, my love.  Now, his name?”

“Napoleon Solo.”

“Not THE Napoleon Solo?  The writer?”

“Yes, he writes.  Why do you ask?”

Laughing, Klementina stood and led him to a built-in bookcase.  An entire shelf was dedicated to just one author and Illya grinned at the name.   He reached out a finger and ran it over the gold embossing.

He took one book off the shelf and flipped it open.  The title page was inscribed:  _To: Viktor with a K – my number one fan. Thank you for your enthusiasm and support.  Your friendship means the world to me! Sincerely, Napoleon_

“I think it’s safe to say your father will be predisposed to love him,” his mother whispered in his ear.

“That makes two of us.”  Illya touched his forehead to hers and drew a deep sigh of relief.

“Where is this love of your life?”

“I left him on Rangi.”

“Illya!  I raised you better than that!”

“I know, but I didn’t know what Papa might say… and I sort of wanted him to myself for a little bit longer before having to share him with everyone.”

“Well, when you are ready, know that he will be welcomed.  Now, let’s go tell your sisters before they get splinters in their ears from trying to listen at the door.”

Illya held up a finger and crept to the door.  Opening it quickly, the two girls looked at them with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment.

“And now we know why we will never have a surprise party for either of you.”  Klementina laughed.  “Let us go back out and enjoy the trade winds while we can and Illya will tell you his big news.”                                                                        

                                                                                ****

Napoleon walked from the dining room to the main building, his mood gloomy.  He was feeling more and more confined by the hotel.  He’d stop hearing the birds or the waves.  They had become mere background noise, much like the traffic of New York.

He couldn’t write and it was making him cranky.  At first it had been okay.  Napoleon chalked it up to being back in Tahiti, but as the days passed and the words still refused to come, he began more and more concerned.

It felt as if he was being kept a prisoner here and he’d just about had enough of it.  Napoleon Solo was his own man and it was just about time for Illya Kuryakin to realize that.

Since leaving here the first time, Napoleon has worked hard to become more worldly and less afraid of his own shadow.  Even without Illya at his side, he still encouraged Napoleon to be strong.  He was not the man who had left on that plane so many months ago.  Now he was more confident and shrewd.  He’d always been good at reading people and it transferred over into his books.  Now he used that to gauge the people around him and was amazed to discover his skill.

He made a decision.  Tomorrow morning he would get in the car and go house hunting.  Then he’d call Maizie, his best friend and invite her to the housewarming.  It would have been nice to have had Illya here, but if he wanted to be an absentee boyfriend, then so be it.  Napoleon Solo was here to live and live he would, with or without Illya. 

Then he became aware of a whisper of sound, the call of the birds as they greeted the dusk and the surf pounding on the far side of the island and he smiled.    He was back in charge.  He looked down at his hand and wondered if the words would come next.

Napoleon walked into the community room and looked around.  As usual, he was the only one here.    Not many people used the room and that was a shame.  Still most people came here to avoid TV and this was one of the few rooms in the entire hotel that had one.  There was also a pool table, a few card tables set up with games and puzzles, but there were not pursuits that most people came here to pursue.  They wanted the sun and the ocean.  At night, they wanted the tropical breezes and romance… Unless you were Napoleon Solo and you were here alone. 

To combat the loneliness, he had sought out the library after the first couple of nights.  There were several dozen books there, including many of his own titles, all in French.  Napoleon had been working his way through them.  Some were a bit tougher, but he was making good use of the dictionary Illya left him.   In honor of his namesake, Napoleon had taken French in high school and then again in college and it was starting to come back to him.  It helped to have people who only spoke French around him.

He’d just about made his choice for the night when he heard someone clearing their throat.  He glanced over and in the doorway stood Illya.

With a laugh, Napoleon rushed to meet his lover and then stopped short, startled.  It wasn’t Illya, but almost his double, at least in stature and build.  The hair was dark brown with streaks of gray in it and his eyes were dark.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else,” Napoleon started, but the man held a hand out to him and Napoleon accepted it.  Suddenly he was pulled in a tight embrace and he started to panic.  Almost without meaning to, he started to struggle, remembering his judo training.

“ _Pardon, pardon!_ ” the man blurted quickly releasing Napoleon and taking a step back.  “I forget myself.  I never thought for a moment that I would stand in the same room as you.  What a pleasure!  What an honor!”

“Do I know you, sir?”  Although Napoleon had the feeling he did.

The man laughed, loud and so heartily that after a moment Napoleon joined him.  “You do, indeed, Mr. Solo!”  He drew himself up, patted his chest,  and proudly announced, “I am Viktor, with a K.”

“Oh, my God, Viktor!”  Now it was Napoleon embraced Viktor.  Over the past year, they had developed a friendship.  Viktor has first written to him after having missed meeting him in Tahiti.  The fact that he came from Papeete made Napoleon write back and things had taken off from there.  Many nights it had been Viktor’s letters that had helped him maintain his connect with Tahiti.  “Talk about a small world!”

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for my friend to finish up on some business in Papeete.”  He paused and then proudly announced, “I’m moving here.”

“Really?  All of the islands will embrace you!”  Viktor laughed again.  “Your friend… he is the gentleman you have spoken of to me before?”

Napoleon felt his cheeks grow warm.  “He is and we came here, but now, he’s off taken care of business and here I sit.  What are you doing here, Viktor?”  They walked to a brightly upholstered couch and sat.

“Well, I told my wife I had business in Hawaii, but I’m just getting away for a few days.  My heart beats for my family, but there are times when a man needs solitude for his soul.”

“You remind me my friend.  Do you have friends here?”

Viktor laughed and waved his arms.  “Yes, but more to the point, I own this hotel and seven others on various islands.  This is my business.”  He patted his chest proudly.  “I arrived here a humble immigrant and now am a business owner.  I know how to keep people happy.”

“You never told me!  I’ve stayed here before and had the best time, especially over on the motu.”

“Ah, the Sauvage.  You liked that?”

“Loved it.  I think I could easily live there.”

“You have always struck me as a man living in the trappings of a world that doesn’t suit you.  It is what makes your words explode off the page.”  Viktor took Napoleon’s hands. “Oh, _mon ami_ , you must come to Tahiti to meet my wife and family.”

“Just as soon as we get settled.”

“Your friend is joining you soon?”

“No idea, but he put me up here until I find a place that suits me.”

“I know of some lovely paces for sale here.  Tomorrow, tomorrow I will show them to you.  Tonight we celebrate meeting face-to-face.”  Viktor slipped his arm around Napoleon’s shoulders and Napoleon was struck at how familiar it felt.

“That would be fabulous.  What until I tell Illya.  He is never going to believe this.”

“Illya?”

“Yes.  That’s the name of my friend.”  Napoleon stopped and realized he’d never told anyone Illya’s name before.  Maizie had found it going through some of his personal papers.

“Illya… Kuryakin?”

“You know him?  This is crazy.  It’s like everyone here knows him.”  Napoleon dropped his head for a moment and then looked back up at Viktor.  “It’s insane, Viktor, but I came here for a visit and ended up falling in love.”

“That is a common occurrence here.”

“I don’t even know what he does for a living, but he sure seems to be everywhere.  He came to New York and I couldn’t say no.  I tried for a year to be happy there… again, but my heart, my soul…”  He paused and sighed.  “My love is here.  Sorry, I didn’t mean to get all sentimental.  He’s been gone for nearly a week and I miss him.”

Viktor laughed again and slapped his chest.  “Oh, Mr. Solo –“

“Napoleon.”

“My friend, Napoleon, it would seem that you and I have much to discuss.  Come!  Let’s us get a drink.”

                                                                                ****

Illya sat on the patio, looking out at the ocean, as if trying to see all the way to Rangiroa.

“A penny for your thoughts, brother.”  Yana held out a glass of wine to him and settled herself, cross-legged, into the cushion of a lounge. 

“Are you old enough to be drinking that?”

“Illya, you should never ask a woman that question. You’ve been staring at the horizon all night.”

“Do you ever feel split in half?”

“What do you mean?”

“Physically, I’m here, but the rest of me is with him.”

Yana laughed and grabbed a handful of her brother’s hair, pulling gently.  “You have it bad over this one.  Is he going to last more than a few days?”

“He already has waited so long, I think he’s capable of another day or so.  It’s odd, Yana, but I feel like I’ve known him my whole life.  Everything that I’ve done, seen, experience, has all been to prepare for this moment.  Now that he’s here, I want to be with him.  Instead, I’m…”  He gestured.  “Stuck here until Papa gets back.”

“Then go to him.  Mama can call you when Papa comes home.” 

“I can’t.  I swore to myself that I’d never leave him again after this.”

She sipped her wine.  “How long has it been since you’ve spoken with him?”

“Almost a week.”

She smacked him and Illya snapped his head at her.  “Careful, Yana,” he cautioned.  “You know how I am about stuff like that.”

“Call him.”

“Not from here.  There are too many ears here.”

“Then go back to your boat and call him.  At this time of night, the only thing likely to be listening will be the wharf rats.”

“I told him to look for a house.”  Illya said suddenly.  “We’re going to live on Rangi.  I’m hoping Dad will give me a job at the hotel.”

“That’s not surprising.  You’ve always loved it there.  Hell, Dad would happily give you the hotel.  Illya, you are the prince in his hotel empire.  He would be thrilled for you to even express the slightest interest.”

“I just want to make sure I can take care of Napoleon.  He’s used to a certain level of comfort.”

“He’s a hotshot writer.”

“It’s a very fickle business.  If something happens, well, I just need to be sure we can get by.”

“Illya, you were born to get by.  You’re a scraper and a fighter and the most resourceful man I know.  No matter what, you will always be okay.”  Yana finished her wine and set the glass aside.  “And I think you need to give him a little credit.  He’s willing to give up everything he knows to be here with you.  That sort of determination will go a long way.  No matter what he’s as determined to take care of you as you are him.  You two will be fine.”

“And what about you, Sister?  Are you going to be fine?”

“One miracle a day I think it the limit in this family.”

                                                                                ****

Napoleon sat on the edge of his bed and tried to make sense of his night.  It had been a happy surprise to meet Viktor.  To discover that Viktor was Illya’s father… the mere thought still took Napoleon’s breath away.  How many things had to happen to get them in the same spot at the same time to have any of that occur.  Napoleon was still shaking his head.

Tomorrow, they would go out and see a house, which Viktor insisted Napoleon would love.  The man was thrilled to welcome Napoleon into the family and Napoleon’s head was still spinning.  He’d expected anger, accusations, and hatred.  He’d expected to be treated as some sort of monster or pervert, not readily embraced.  This was a very different place from his old home.  This was a very different family.  Napoleon wasn’t quite sure what he’d done to deserve such acceptance and happiness, but he wasn’t about to question it.

Then the phone rang and Napoleon jumped at the noise.  It was the first time this week it had rung.  He picked up the receiver and asked, ” _Oui?”_

“You are doing well with the language.”

“Illya!”  Napoleon’s world exploded with happiness.  “Oh, my god, it is so good to hear your voice!”

“You, too.  I’m sorry about the delay.”

“It’s okay.  How are things going?”

“Not well.   There’s been another delay.  Are they taking care of you?”

“Care of me, I feel like royalty.  Never have I been treated so well, but I miss you so much.”

“Can you hold out a few more days?”

Napoleon’s lips curled into a smile.  He knew that the delay was Viktor being away from home.  “I can manage.  I’m going to look at houses tomorrow.  Do you have any requests?”

“Yes, one bed just big enough for two.”

Napoleon’s eyelids drooped and he smiled.  “Are you missing me, Illya?”

“Yes.”

“The way I touch you, the way my fingers feel dancing across your belly and the feeling of my tongue soft and warm against your neck, kissing and licking you?”

He was greeted with a quiet moan and Napoleon continued.  He’d never written a sex scene in any of his books, preferring to leave the act up to the individual reader, but now he painted a picture with his words – a picture of two bodies wrapped in each other’s arms, loving, giving, and taking.

A sudden gasp made Napoleon smile and a moment later, the warmth of Napoleon’s semen spread through his underwear as he joined Illya in a climax.  It was the first time he’d ejaculated without even touching himself.  Maybe he was one helluva writer, after all.

“Did you just come for me, Illya?” he murmured, quiet and lovingly.

“Bastard, I’m at a public phone booth.”  The love in the voice belied the words.  “How am I supposed to get back to my boat like this?”

“Just think what I’ll do to you on that bed just big enough for two, my love,” Napoleon whispered.

“A few days… just a few more days, Napoleon.  I swear I’ll make it up to you and I’ll never leave you again.”

“Yes, you will and, no, you won’t.  Good night.”

Napoleon cradled the phone and then winced as he peeled off his sticky shorts.  It had been so worth it.  Even more than that, he’d been inspired. 

He gathered up his clothes, included the underwear and put them all in a laundry sack.  Then he dug out and shook the wrinkles out of his favorite parau.  Wrapping and knotting around his waist, he went to the desk and started to type.

                                                                                ****

Illya swallowed at the butterflies in his stomach.  Napoleon’s flight was on final approach and within a few minutes they would be reunited for what Illya swore would be the last time.  He was never going to let Napoleon out of his sight after this, to hell with whatever price there was to be paid.

His father had arrived earlier in the day and Illya had done his best to approach the man, but his father was tired and grumpy.

When Illya hinted that he was going to settle down, Papa had snapped something about pregnancy had better not be an issue.  It struck Illya as out of character for his father was aware of Illya’s proclivities. Then Papa had shut himself in the study, locked the door, and refused to talk about anything.  By that point, it was too late to cancel Napoleon’s flight and the whole affair had made Illya just that much more determined.

 _To hell with all of them, h_ e thought.  If need be, they would live on his boat and Napoleon could write during the day and Illya would work the tourists.  No matter what, Napoleon would write.

The flight’s arrival was announced first in French, then Tahitian and finally English.  There were never many daily passengers on the regular flight and Illya watched as folks climbed down from the plane and onto the tarmac.  For a moment, Illya’s heart sagged when he didn’t see Napoleon, then a familiar figure filled the small plane hatch and Illya grinned.

It was all he could do to not rush out and meet the man halfway, but he managed to hold back until Napoleon hit the deep blue carpet of Air Tahiti’s gate and walked into the terminal.

Napoleon lifted a hand in a half wave and that’s all it took.  Illya was in his arms and they were embracing, a moment frozen as the world flowed around them.

“Welcome back,” Illya murmured, kissing first one cheek and then the other.  “You don’t know how I’ve missed you.”

“Oh, I have a feeling I do.”

The conversation in the car was light and carefully off topic, Illya saw to that.  He chatted about everything except where they were going and why.

Napoleon studied the passing scenery.  “I bought a house... in Tevaro,” he said suddenly. “I really liked the feeling of that little town.”

“It’s a great place and a bit more private that Avatoru.  That’s a great choice.”

“Sort of my feelings.  The house faces the lagoon, but you can hear the breakers on the other side.  It’s not very big, but I think it’s perfect for us.  Two bedrooms, I thought we could make one the study.”

“Sounds great.  Which real estate agent did you use?”

“A local helped me.  We struck up a conversation in the library at the hotel and it sort of went from there.

They pulled up in front of his parents’ house and Illya parked.

“Why are we stopping here?”  Napoleon looked around and finally settled on the house.  “Someone you know?”

“My parents.”

“I thought they were dead.”

“No, not dead, although I tend to distance myself from them.”

“Why would you do that?”  Napoleon took Illya’s hand.  “Are you ashamed of them?”

“What?  No just the opposite.  I fear I‘ve been a bit of a disappointment to them, but I’m ready to settle down now.”

Napoleon’s voice grew soft.  “Because of me?”

“You are the one thing I’ve done right in my entire life.   For a long time, they wanted me to be someone I didn’t want to be.  Now I’m ready to try, if they will let me.  It might mean that things will be a little tight until I work my way up the ladder.”

“Illya, I’m not exactly destitute, you know, and we do have a place to live.  I bought the place outright.”

“Yes, but I want you to be able to write without worrying about day-to-day stuff.”

“With you at my side, I have nothing to worry about, Illya.”

He couldn’t contain himself anymore and kissed Napoleon, long and with more passion than he thought was possible.  “God, I love you so damn much, Solo.”  He wrapped his arms around Napoleon and held him.  “Do you know what you do to me?  How much you make me love you?”

“You’re trembling,” Napoleon whispered.  “Why?”

“I’m so scared that I’ve screwed everything up so badly that I won’t be able to make it right ever again.  I didn’t mean to leave you at the hotel like that.  You must hate me.”

“How could I hate you, Illya?”  Napoleon kissed him briefly.  “Granted, I don’t understand you and know next to nothing about you, but I could never hate you.”  He kissed Illya again.  “Let’s go and get this over with, then we can find ourselves some place to spend the night where they have thick walls and narrow beds.”

                                                                                                ****

Napoleon mentally berated himself when he felt the tremors running through Illya.  Everyone else seemed in on this except Illya and that worried Napoleon.  What would Illya say when he found out his own father had sold Napoleon a house?  Would Illya laugh or rage at Napoleon for keeping this from him?  Napoleon just didn’t know, but he did know how very special this man was to him.

He climbed out of the car and looked around.  “It’s much cooler here.”

“Yes, that’s one reason why they chose to build here.  They get a breeze nearly every day.”

He followed Illya up the porch steps and into the front hall.  The house was larger than anything he’d seen on Rangiroa, open and airy.  The walls were a soft white and seemed to radiate coolness both inside and out.

“They are waiting for us in the library.  At least my dad has read your books.  That might pave the way… I hope.”

Napoleon could take no more and pulled Illya aside. “Illya, I have a confession to make.”

“What?”  Illya looked spooked.  “What’s wrong?  Are you having second thoughts?”

“Never.  No, I need to tell you this before it goes any further.   I’ve already met your father.”

“What?  How?”

“He has been on Rangiroa all this time, not Hawai’i.  He is the guy I ran into.  He’s the one who showed me the houses… and I bought one from him.”  Illya stared at Napoleon for a long moment, his face undecipherable.  “Are you very angry?  He swore me to secrecy.”

“At you, never.”  Illya caressed Napoleon’s cheek .  “At him, it’s not like I could be mad at him for long.  He’s always been like this pulling crap like this.   Did he by chance show you _Aita pe’a pe’a?”_

“I think that’s what he called it, yes.  Has a small interior garden just inside a fence.  There’s a fountain with two sea serpents…”

“Porpoises, they are supposed to be sea serpents.”

“How do you know?”

“My uncle designed it.”  Illya chuckled.  “He didn’t sell you any house, Napoleon.  That’s my house.  I just don’t live there.”

“I wondered why there wasn’t a for sale sign on it and why it was already fully furnished.”

“I’ve been outed, I see.”  A voice came from behind them and they turned.  Viktor was standing there, holding the hand of a beautiful blond woman.  Napoleon knew instant where Illya got his blond hair and blue eyes.  Behind them were two younger girls and Napoleon knew they were Illya’s sisters.

“Sorry, Viktor, I tried, but I just couldn’t…”

“There are never any secrets here,” the woman murmured as she stepped forward and kissed Napoleon on the cheek.  “Welcome to our family, Napoleon.  I hope you have a lifetime of happiness together.”

Napoleon smiled warmly at her.  “Thank you…”

She smiled back.  “Mama.”

“Mama it is.”  Napoleon sighed happily.  It had been a long time since he’d called anyone Mama and connected the word with a positive image.

“He wormed it out of you, didn’t he?”  Viktor looked crossly at his son and then laughed heartily.  “Actually I’m amazed you lasted this long.”

“You sold him my own house.” Illya muttered, trying to match his father’s expression.

“You never use it.  Besides, I am giving him his money back.  If he wants to waste his time hanging out with you, I’m glad to have him.”

Napoleon slipped an arm around Illya’s waist and smiled.  “So am I.”

“How are you going to support yourself, Illyusha?”  His father’s attention came back to him.

”I’ll do whatever it takes.”  Illya squared his jaw and locked eyes with him.

“Just try not to run Kia Ora into the ground, okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s giving you Kia Ora, idiot.”  The older sister came forward and hugged her brother.  “Don’t mess up the best thing that’s ever happened to you, Illya.”

Illya shook loose and took Napoleon’s hand.  “Don’t worry.  I won’t.” 

She took Napoleon’s other hand.  “I’m Yana and this is Emma.  Welcome home.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you really the writer, Napoleon Solo?”  Emma approached, looking a bit in awe.

“I am.”

“Wow… that must be a great life.”

Napoleon smiled and kissed Illya’s fingers.  “It is now.”

Illya grinned, seeming truly happy for what seemed like the first time in his life.  “I’m starving.  Is there any food around here?”

As a family they embraced and laughed and began a new chapter in their lives, together and whole.


End file.
